


The Pleasure Is All Mine

by Green_Destiny



Series: The Pleasure Is All Mine [1]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Art, Beautiful glorious porn, Explicit Sexual Content, Honeymoon, Illustrated, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Same-Sex Marriage, Smut, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Destiny/pseuds/Green_Destiny
Summary: “This is what lovers do.” — Just a collection of private and irresistible moments between these two. ♥[Careful as you enter: Contains very NSFW artwork!]





	The Pleasure Is All Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this fic boiling in a pan since, like, October maybe? But I’ve procrastinated about it for much, much longer because I painted THAT image, and………. I just really wanted to write something beautiful and dirty so we’ll all know why he has _that look on his face :|_
> 
> It’s a bit rubbish of me to have taken so long but I hope you can forgive, and now I’m going to hide in my den but also wait for all of your (hopefully) lovely reactions | ू•ૅω•́)ᵎᵎᵎ

It began here some days ago, in this beautiful floating villa overlooking the ocean lapping at the white shoreline of a mystery beach. The islands and surrounding seafront look like another world from here, and yet they could be anywhere. Akihito’s forgotten what country they're in, what continent they’re on, what side of the hemisphere he’s woken up in. He’s stumbling for the fourth or fifth time since their stay to even piece together what time it is, not that it’s immensely significant, but as it happens, the time is a glimmering gloam of lavender and fluorescent orange ascending into the heavens. But the uselessness of stitching together time couldn't compare to the mesmerising gold looking back at him, slowly exhaling smoke from his mouth like a dragon who’s feasted on fire for the better part of eternity, and is now waiting for him, expecting…

“Come here, Akihito.”

It's a gorgeous invitation from halfway across the room, and Akihito’s hopelessly attracted to it, like a moth to a golden flame. He closes their distance from the balcony, pausing for a very still moment when he feels the wet trail of arousal dripping down the inside of his thighs, which should theoretically be the thing to fluster him, in reality, its intimacy lingers on him like the softest of kisses.

And the man responsible for all of this takes the cigarette from his lips and turns him an amused smirk, lying unapologetically naked on the bed with nine-plus inches of prowess half way to hardness, waiting for him as if waiting for the moment of deliverance. 

_Oh..._

And it's breathtaking.

Akihito properly forgets himself for a luscious few moments and has to steady himself before continuing towards the bed, palms and knees pressing into softness and feeling the rush of increasing, heady heat at the messy strewn covers pooling around his lover. He splays his hand on a sweaty, muscular thigh and has those gold eyes follow up to him with the languid ease of something that's a cross between exhaustion and rejuvenation, and the playful ripple of a laugh takes a hold of Akihito as he leans in for a kiss.

“Asami,” he says, gasped within a breath as he climbs into his man’s lap, and Asami promptly crushes his cigarette into the nearest thing that won't catch alight. He wraps both arms around Asami’s neck and Asami’s hands settle temporarily on the small of his back before stroking around to his front to play with his nipples.

“You look ready for me again,” Asami says to him, the rough, sexual lilt setting all of his anticipations racing.

“Hmm, so do you,” Akihito replies back, and as soon as he answers, both globes of his ass are cradled in Asami’s big hands and he's handled with rough, indenting fingers and eyes that flicker with an ignited eagerness.

More often than not, Asami skips the foreplay to devour him straight away, but now and again he lets him have these moments just to feel him, forehead to forehead, gazing into one another’s eyes and sharing in one breath; slow, tantric sensations that build to an enormous peak. It’s both glorious and unbearable to Akihito’s gradually liquefying mind as Asami takes to smearing the come of their previous lovemaking along the backs of his thighs while he's mooning on what exactly he loves so much about this dangerous, hedonistic man, and realises he already knows. 

The details are in the gold — in the glow of Asami’s eyes in this close, highly charged intimacy that makes Akihito melt and swell — the idea that this man is too perfect for his soul and he isn’t, by all varying accounts, a feared, black-market crime lord, and a threat to Tokyo’s peace.

He thinks about that strong heartbeat pressing against his chest as Asami pulls him closer, the intimacy it contains and why it matters so much to him that this man is at the center of his everything. Because any day could be their last day on Earth, one day their empire may crumble and their dreams will scatter like dust among stars, and this heartbeat will be the only real thing Akihito will ever have all to himself.

“Let’s leave the apocalypse for another time, shall we?” Asami chuckles into his ear, and the sentence gives Akihito a blushing moment of pause as he sobers back into the present.

“Huh...wha…?”

“Were you not aware of yourself just then?”

“Um…” He fumbles to find his words and only has to glance at Asami’s knowing smirk for a second to realise his mental slip-up. ‘Drinking out of my palm’ sums up the man’s expression.

Asami lets out a sordid chuckle that’s also harmonious and delicious. “Loud thoughts are always the most honest,” Asami tells him, full of glowing satisfaction while pressing the most subtlest of touches to the shaft of Akihito’s cock that gently works up to the sensitive, dripping tip. “You know how much I value honesty, don’t you?” 

_Oh_ , does Akihito know. His brain holds nothing sacred when Asami touches him like this, toying with his vulnerabilities and exploiting him with these quiet, brilliant touches.

“And besides,” Asami continues, with the deep rough of his voice carving straight through the haze of pleasure, “You’ll never be rid of me. You're bound to me forever, no matter what, Asami Akihito-san.”

Akihito can’t help but shiver, both when he hears the sound of his newly married name and when Asami tips him back onto the bedspread and leans in between his legs to kiss him, deep and passionate. He lives on every touch of Asami’s warmth when he’s kissing his neck and trailing those talented, effortless fingertips over his lips that he catches between his teeth as he’s moaning into the empty, humid air. 

“Today, you become my husband, my love, and my life,” he hears Asami recite — the vow that they made to each other in a room of no more than forty people — and now it’s recounted privately to him in Asami’s sweltering voice and Akihito adores the rush that quickly fills him.

It isn’t something he can get used to in a few days, and it jostles for definition in his heart, and somehow it didn’t hit him at the time but now it absolutely _floors_ him that he has to call Asami by the title of ‘husband’. Their journey here still does its best to baffle him — from that one gigantic overstep in his meager life as an investigative photographer, taking on the emperor of an underworld in his own hunting ground, adrenaline soaked and missiling off the roof of Sion into a pool of streetlights below. Little did he know that that leap of faith would land him in an abyss of sexual torture and filthy desires he never knew he wanted conquered, and the subsequent days spent nearly dying of shame in his tiny apartment when fantasising about Asami became his sole dirty obsession.

They’ve been at odds with each other, become lovers, and at last they’ve become friends, and then he’s been kidnapped and bargained with and defiled by too many mafia bosses in one lifetime let alone two or three or four to know that Asami’s world is a vicious, literal hell. And as Asami’s multitude of touches and kisses burn hot on his skin, he finds all of it entirely worth fighting for — because every one of their wars has ended in their victory.

And now, married life has to take shape in the spaces between turf wars and gunfights, and Akihito feels slightly helpless, like he’s spiralling out of flight. It’s the kind of life that feels incompatible with anything sacred as their penultimate vow of “I promise to honour and protect you for all the days of your life.” They've already acquired too many scars along the way for that to have stuck, and Akihito takes to remembering all of them as he runs his fingertips along Asami’s chest and cataloging their entire history through the pads of his fingers. The cratered bullet wound just below Asami’s clavicle is the biggest mar on his perfect body, less than a handspan away from his heart — too close for any shred of comfort. He touches it with the same delicacy as stroking a cloth over his favourite camera lens, if not more (because skin isn’t something unyielding like firm glass) and repeatedly kisses it to try to distract his mind from reliving the deafening rip as a crazed Feilong blasted two bullets into him.

“Up here,” he hears, barely. His unfocused train of cataclysmic thought derails when that fantastically smug grin is all there is to look at, and Asami points to his own lips, silently demanding in a way only Asami can with a simple curl of his mouth. Akihito quickly forgets about sentimental war wounds and moves to meld his lips around that slanted grin, kissing open mouthed and wet and mutually selfish. Akihito’s hands are all over, tousling in Asami’s hair and Asami has one of Akihito’s legs lifted high so he can kiss it all the way from ankle to inner thigh and that sensitive join near his balls that makes him want to eat the bedsheets while he screams into them, and Asami’s beautiful voice is still reiterating their vows — “I promise to love you for eternity, with all that I am and all that I have to give.”

“What could you possibly give me that I would want?” Akihito chides, despite Asami’s nips to his belly button and the kisses to his nipples that whets all of his anticipations like something absurd. He all but feels Asami’s rumble of laughter smothered against his chest, and then a blanket of air as he gets up and wanders away from the bed, actually wanders. This fucking ridiculous man.

“No, no, no, come back,” Akihito whines, making grabbing motions at him as he lights up a cigarette on the other side of the room and disappears off to the balcony to smoke it, enjoying entirely the wrong view. Akihito shimmies on his back to the edge of the bed and angles his head to catch that very masculine bodyline leaning against the rail of the balcony with complete nonchalance, fully hard and fully ignoring him. He swears if he wasn’t married to him he would have left him then and there and—oh, he’s coming back.

Akihito’s feet wag as Asami flicks his cigarette into the water and strides long-limbed back to him, crawling with a predator’s prowl back onto the bed, but also a little out of reach. That's when Akihito covets the initiative.

“Oh, is _this_ what you want?” Asami quips, referring explicitly to his endowment being pulled by a hand that wants him closer. “And I thought you only married me for my money.”

Akihito drops the cock with a scoff that’s easier than saying, _“As if I bloody would,”_ and hits Asami’s thigh with the back of his hand. “I didn’t marry you for your ego, that’s for damn sure.” 

“What _did_ you marry me for then?” Asami inquires, as though he’s feigning surprised that Akihito isn’t a gold digger, and he retakes his position between Akihito’s legs, smiling down on him with crooked humour in his expression, and one by one begins to list: “It couldn’t be that we share an exhilaration for life threatening situations...” 

“Asami—” Akihito’s already instinctually wary of where this is going, especially when Asami starts to kiss down his neck and that hollow join in his shoulder that faithfully aims to distract. 

“Or my 100% search and rescue record,” Asami continues, and Akihito pales.

“Please...” 

“Or my unsurpassed bean counting ability, surely.” 

Akihito’s initial snort bursts out into a peal of laughter that he can't contain anymore.

“Isn't that how you define my work?” Asami says cheerfully afterwards.

“This list is ridiculous.” By the end of it Akihito’s sides are hurting from laughter, but then he realise with disdain how very helplessly turned on he is by Asami’s shoddy sense humour, and his legs unconsciously grip tighter around Asami’s waist. “I would've loved for it to have been _any_ of those reasons, but it’s neither one of them, actually.” 

“Ah, so it is the money,” Asami returns, knowing full well that Akihito doesn’t care a shit for his volumes of offshore accounts in several tax dodging countries, and thinks denigrating Akihito’s inherent goodness is a finer gesture of his love. 

“I think I would've preferred you if you didn't have a yen to your name,” Akihito says, in a way that could have real truth skirting along its borders, though it’s hard to imagine it while ensconced in their current luxury, and while Asami’s devil-smile is broadening over him, the eternal devil that he is.

Asami plays on the intrigue. “You've envisaged me as a poor man now?”

“Actually,” Akihito weighs in, “you probably would've been a more noble person had you been poor. More humble, better personality. Less of an arrogant, diabolical bastard.” 

“And yet, the very same cock would drive you to incredible depths of pleasure, whichever one of me you decided to marry. Difference is moot.” 

An instantaneous burst of heat flames in Akihito’s face that would be hard for Asami not to notice, and he turns his hot cheeks away, snorting quietly, “...well, you are a dick, so…”

“And what it gives to you is your everything, Akihito.” Asami’s voice glides effortlessly over the shell of his exposed ear, communicating an infernal lust that drives him out of his mind and has him floundering and twisting into the bedsheets.

“I feel special...or am I just unlucky? I don’t know…”

“Ungrateful,” Asami provides.

And it’s then that Asami feels especially inspired to start entering him, and where Akihito’s sarcasm ultimately gives up the ghost. 

“Mmmm... _ah—_ ”

His legs widen for it, as well as a sharp intake of breath at the stretch of penetration, even with Asami’s copious spend already slick inside him. Asami’s size always deliciously overwhelms him, no matter how many times he's taken it, and as his hips gather momentum, so does its incredible power. He quickly dissolves into a mess of cries and pleas at the way Asami moves inside him; so punishing that he swears it'll rip him in two, seed thrust so deep he'll never be rid of it, _god_ , he won’t even be mad if Asami leaves bruises on his legs or makes him bleed a little, he's lost the point of no return and he wants to be destroyed, wants to be made anew, wants to be driven up the walls and across the ceiling, he wants...

“You want a lot of things,” Asami indulgently voices, gliding like darkened silk across his breathing, open lips, so close it should be a kiss, but Asami keeps talking, “Your soul is an unknowable ocean to anyone but me. You’d never give up your secrets to one who’s powerless to tread your depths.”

 _Gods_ … his voice.

“Is it any wonder destiny saw you delivered into my arms? To have your every maddening desire fulfilled until the last of your days. My vows were my promise, Akihito.”

Any other time and Akihito would have thrown away such arrogance, but not this time. The words echo around in his headspace and then go straight to his heart, blossoming like exploding waterfalls, and he’s shuddering, clenching, sobbing with his overflowing love for this man, gushing sweetly, _Asami, Asami, Asami_...

He closes his eyes and moans aloud, head lolling off the edge of the bed and fingers clinging to the covers, balancing on the edge of something — something excruciating, outrageous, something as exquisite as liquid smoke descending on him, kissing him, melting across his cheek and along his jaw and swiping across his lips, feathered breaths that teeter on his face as Asami strokes his thumbs over the line of his cheekbones and mouths just his lower lip while lulling him with encouragements.

“Let me hear you,” he whispers, “Say those words to me,” and Asami’s lips touch his neck as he speaks, caressing it while the pace of his hips slow to languid undulations, as if slowing would tease these words out of him any easier. Comprehension is a literal world away from Akihito in all of his agonising need. Even the smallest movement is intensely sensitised when he’s this close, with Asami coaxing sigh after sigh out of him, seducing him hopelessly, all muscles and bones bending towards him. “Please, Asami...oh please, oh please.” 

“Such a luscious voice,” Asami’s trails, deep tones loosening with laughter, “It could tempt every fibre of me to crumble. And now, it's my turn to _want._ ”

Words are innumerable but Asami's words are _divine_ in their finest moments, tearing Akihito from his mind and beyond. His spine begins to curve him as Asami’s speed creeps back up and Asami’s hand supports him while the other squeezes his red-hot erection between their bodies, and he’s throwing every moan over Asami’s shoulder as he clings to him and waits for his world to gloriously cave.

“Ryu...” he babbles into the side of Asami’s temple and digs his nails into hot bare skin as he desperately, hopelessly comes, spilling between their bodies with a tantalising lightning bolt dispersing through his spinal cord, and the litany falling out of his mouth is “Ryuichi, Ryuichi, Ryuichi,” peppered with dozens of messy kisses until he’s filled to bursting with Asami’s flooding warmth. Asami’s hips snap forward and he shivers around the pressure of his own orgasm and Akihito’s constant griping tightness wants to milk him forever and ever and ever, devouring his seed for luscious seconds.

He’s so full, ever so full, lying boneless and exhilarated and utterly spent with Asami half collapsed on top of him and his body like magma to the touch, and yet the want to touch him extends beyond molten heat, beyond the trembling of his hands as they stroke through Asami’s sweat-damp hair. He listens to the sound of Asami’s heaving chest breathing the most irresistible, blissed-out sounds against his ear, and it's the most quietly euphoric thing he'll ever want etched into his body memory. 

The arms around him grow tighter, squeezing him impossibly tight and Asami nestles his forehead into his neck and mouths something close to his skin that Akihito fails to properly hear but it makes his toes curl, makes every hair stand on end at something so delicate rolling off of Asami’s tongue, like ribbons of mist on a rainbowed slick of oil, the ripples passing intoxicatingly through him. And just as he’s about to doze off — dreams of a shower and food and maybe lounging in the middle of the ocean on an inflatable — Asami’s exquisitely dark eyes are watching him as if he knows this and objects to him ever leaving this bed, and maybe, just maybe, in the few empty seconds before Asami’s rearranging him for another round, Akihito understands exactly why he married this man.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh marriage...makes the heart all wobbly ♥
> 
> I have plans to make this a series once I deliver much needed updates for Divining Infinity. (...Just wanna write a whole load of filth tbh (ʃƪ¬‿¬)... )


End file.
